People are weird (1) Aug 15, 2007
People, in general, are weird.  And I've reached the point where I'm not surprised by any amount of weirdness.  Sure, it can be said that everybody's weird in some way or another, but I like to think there are at least a few people on earth who can be considered normal.  The rest are weird. 

Some people are known by others to be weird.  "Watch out for him; he does this weird thing."  I often won't notice that weird thing if I was meeting the person for the first time.  Sure, I notice it, but it's not even a big enough deal to make a point of it.  I met a guy a few weeks ago who kept doing his impression of Optimus Prime from Transformers.  I thought it was a bit odd for a guy in his mid-20s to be repeatedly (and poorly) imitating a voice from a movie largely geared towards children and teenagers (though it was awesome!), but I didn't dwell on it too long.  "Oh well, he's weird."  I was later told somebody should've warned me about him.  I said, "Don't worry, I'm not surprised by weird people." 

I think at least part of the reason I'm not surprised by weird people anymore is because two major parts of my life are overrun by weird people.  First, I'm an engineer.  By definition, there's no such thing as a normal engineer.  We're all weird.  We're socially awkward.  We smell.  We can't match our poorly-fitting clothes.  We walk funny.  We talk funny.  If you think you know an engineer who isn't weird, that person is either (a) a fake engineer who will later in life turn out to be a manager, or (b) a real engineer who's good at hiding his/her weirdness.  Watch this person closely, their true colors will show eventually. 

Second, I'm a Christian.  This is at least slightly mean, but it's completely and entirely true:  The Christian church attracts and encourages weird people.  On a deeper level, that's part of the appeal:  There's hardly a place on the planet a weird person can go and be totally and completely accepted, without the need to put on a facade or act a certain way.  Because of this radical acceptance, weird people are encouraged to be even weirder, and new weird people show up every day. 

Weirdness might be a mean word for all this, so let's call it oddness.  If we assume Joe Smith is the ideal person, capable of social interaction, exhibiting no accent, having good manners, and working a 9-5 job, oddness would be his opposite.  So whether you have a stutter, a limp, a birth mark, an annoying habit, one leg that's shorter than the other, an unevenness in the way your hair grows, asthma, shifty eyes, trouble holding a conversation, or an irrational fear, you're odd.  But in the end, if everyone is odd in some way or another, the only really odd people are the normal ones. #psychology
Dead bugs down the toilet (5) Aug 9, 2007
I flush dead bugs down the toilet because I have an irrational fear that they'll come back to life and take revenge on me by crawling in my ears, nose, or mouth while I'm sleeping. #psychology
Gender-specific colors (2) Aug 9, 2007
I wonder if color-gender relationships are universal (international), e.g. blue is for boys, pink is for girls?  I just saw a non-American guy on a purple mountain bike.  He didn't seem to mind. 

Some internet research claims that blue and pink were actually reversed in their gender representation as recently as the 1940s or 50s.  Boys wore pink because it's essentially watered-down red, which is a fierce, bold, dramatic color.  Girls wore blue for some unknown reason. 

Wikipedia has a little information on the subject, noting that while purple is often associated with royalty in certain cultures, most Asian cultures have adopted yellow.  And while black is often a symbol of death in western cultures, the Chinese use the color white. 

Update (2007-08-21 9:09am):  A recent article talks about the same thing. #psychology
Pizza bushes, beer trees Aug 9, 2007
From a recent email correspondence with my sister Stacy, who's in the army and currently in Iraq: 
Me:  What's the plan when you get home from Iraq?  Leave the army, move into the woods, and live off the land? 
Stacy:  Wow - who told you about my future plans?!  I AM going to live off the land!  But only if that land has pizza bushes and beer trees :-)
In stark contrast to the email from my other sister.  But seriously, wouldn't pizza bushes and beer trees be awesome? #psychology
Waiting in line to talk Aug 9, 2007
A few years ago, right after I graduated college, I went to the church I grew up in.  I was recently engaged, and I remember seeing a guy there who I hadn't seen or talked to in a few years, and I heard he was also engaged.  After the service, I went over to talk to him.  At the moment, he was talking to someone, likely about how he recently graduated from college and/or had gotten engaged.  I waited patiently for a chance to have a word with him, seeing that we had quite a bit in common.  I remember trying to make eye contact with him as a silent "Hey, good to see you; we'll talk in a few minutes."  I waited for an uncomfortably long time and finally reached the point where I couldn't care less whether I talked to this guy or not.  So I went home and didn't think about it again. 

But a similar experience last week reminded me of it.  I was standing in line to sign up for a graduate class, and two people ahead of me was a guy I had previously traveled with for work.  At one point, he turned around and started talking to the person behind me.  My plan initially was to avoid him altogether, not because I didn't like him, but because I literally don't enjoy human interaction, especially when we have so little in common and therefore so little to say to each other. 
Him:  Done any more traveling lately?
Me:  Nope.  You?
Him:  Nope.
But since he turned around, I felt obligated to say hi.  I attempted to make eye contact with him, again as a silent "Hey, good to see you; we'll talk in a few minutes."  What would normally be a simple endeavor turned out to be a massive internal struggle about how long it would take to stare at a person before things got weird.  I decided the length of time I had already stared was plenty, so I looked away and thought about other things.  We both signed up for classes and left the building without talking to each other. 

Moral of the story:  I refuse to wait in line to talk to people.  If it's really important, I'm sure you'll come find me.  Otherwise it's just not worth my time or effort. #psychology
The human disease (1) Aug 8, 2007
A parasite is defined as "An organism that grows, feeds, and is sheltered on or in a different organism while contributing nothing to the survival of its host."  Most definitions also mention that the parasite, usually the smaller of the two, often benefits while the host is harmed. 

Human beings are, quite literally, a parasite to planet earth.  They use it, burn it, dig it, crush it, and destroy it.  Then they scatter all their waste products (created and bodily) on the ground and in the ocean, further harming themselves and other creatures attempting to live symbiotically on the planet.  Every part of the planet is made worse by human interaction.  Humans make use of the earth for their own well-being at the expense of the earth's well-being, thus perfectly fitting the definition of a parasite. #psychology
Privilege vs. right Jul 27, 2007
A home-schooled 16-year-old from Illinois was denied the option of playing high school football for the reason that "participation in extracurricular activities is a 'privilege' and not a 'right'".  While I dislike that argument, it's totally true.  There are a lot of things that we as humans (or probably more accurately, we as Americans) think are our God-given rights.  We have the right to vote.  We have the right to bear arms.  We have the right to play high school football.  We have the right to drive.  But actually, those last two aren't rights at all.  They're privileges.  Privileges can be taken away because of bad behavior or not granted in the first place. 

I think this has a little to do with this article about how Mr. Rogers ruined the world by telling everyone they're special.  A San Diego State University psychologist noticed that many Asian-born students accept whatever grade they're given; they see B's and C's as an indication that they must work harder, and that their superiors assessed them accurately.  American students, on the other hand, often view lower grades as a reason to "hit you up for an A because they came to class and feel they worked hard".  I can identify with this idea because I've done it many times.  I think it shows that I (and we) feel like I'm owed something.  We have the right to go to college, and we have the right to get good grades for doing our work.  The SDSU professor said he wishes more parents would offer kids this perspective:  "The world owes you nothing.  You have to work and compete.  If you want to be special, you'll have to prove it." #psychology
Remembering names Jul 5, 2007
Part of my dislike of human interaction stems from the fact that I can't remember people's names.  And since I know what it feels like to have someone call you the wrong name, I have an immense fear of calling other people the wrong name.  I've tried the tricks like repeating the name in my head 7,000 times or writing it on my forehead in reverse so it shows up correctly in a mirror, but nothing works.  I freeze up under pressure.  And a lot times, it's not that I don't remember it, it's that I'm not completely sure.  This happens with people from other countries (sorry Asian people, Sung is too close to Chung for my brain to remember the difference) and people who work or are otherwise closely associated with other.  If two guys sit together at work, my brain says, "That's Jim and Bob.  Jim and Bob sit there.  That area contains Jim and Bob."  If I see Jim or Bob away from his respective counterpart, I usually won't remember which one was which, and likely won't take a chance at guessing. #psychology
Gambling Jul 5, 2007
Based on a recent stay at Foxwoods in Connecticut, I've developed an official stance on gambling:  I don't like it.  Sorry Mike and Becca, it was a fun thing to do and a nice place to stay, but I'm not into gambling at all.  It could definitely have something to do with not winning.  Since I've never won any money, "gambling" is another word for "slowly losing my money".  I could think of no less than 5,000,000 other ways to lose my money, most of which would be more thrilling than sticking dollar bills into a machine.  Yes, I realize I would probably have a better chance of winning at a table, but I have a generalized fear of human interaction, especially when (a) I'm forced to learn a new game (b) involving cards and (c) my money. 

There are two other main reasons why I don't like gambling, and both involve people (surprise!):  First, gambling seems to fit in quite nicely with drinking, smoking, and motorcycles.  Oh, and obesity.  But that one's not all that important.  I'm not a big drinker.  I'm not a big smoker.  I'd like to ride a motorcycle but I have an acute fear of death via dismemberment and/or decapitation.  All in all, I just don't fit in with the gambling crowd.  Second, the waitresses skirts are too short.  I thought this was a Las Vegas thing.  Nope.  For a place that advertises its child-friendliness and family-vacation atmosphere, I saw incredibly too much nylon-covered upper thigh.  On a side note, perhaps there should be an age limit.  I'm just saying. 

On the plus side, I enjoy free things, so I gladly accepted free drinks while I slowly gambled away my quarters.  And casinos generally have a lot of food, sights, sounds, and activities, so it's possible to have a good time without even gambling a penny.  Hello, Bellagio. 

On a gambling-related side note, Wendy's mom tithes her gambling winnings (gives ten percent to her church).  I find this hilarious, yet oddly appropriate.  Sure, her money was gained through a less-than-holy cause, but it's cool that she knows her Bible well enough to remember the parts about tithing. #psychology
Phone book (1) Jun 26, 2007
I find it puzzling that phone books still exist.  For around a decade now, the internet has been the method people use to find information.  Sure it's not always reliable, and you can't always find what you're looking for, but I'd be more willing to trust the internet than a book that's updated and published annually.  Then there's the whole environmental issue.  Since phone books are republished every year, the old ones will inevitably be thrown out.  What happens to all that paper?  Why can't I opt out of getting a phone book?  I can opt out of [some] other mailings, but not the one that randomly shows up in a plastic bag on my driveway every 12 months.  Detractors will point to the fact that phone books are useful for propping things up, such as kids on chairs and getting stuff from the top cabinet.  Neither are issues for me since I'm childless and tall enough to reach high things.  So please, phone book hander-outers, whoever you are, please stop giving me phone books.  I don't use them. #psychology